


More Than That

by fishfingersandjellybabies



Category: Batman (Comics), Super Sons (Comics)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-15
Updated: 2018-05-15
Packaged: 2019-05-07 11:17:56
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,512
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14669988
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fishfingersandjellybabies/pseuds/fishfingersandjellybabies
Summary: Talia called him a weapon. Bruce would make sure Damian knew that wasn’t at all true.





	More Than That

**Author's Note:**

> Based off Super Sons 13 & 14\. I feel like Jon heard every single thing Talia said, even when he wasn’t present, and knew that Damian was still hiding his emotions at the end, even though he opened up a little when Jon tried. Jon stole Clark’s phone and was texting Dick. When Dick said Damian wasn’t responding, he immediately made Clark call Bruce. I just realized this title is similar to  _‘[Less Than](http://fishfingersandjellybabies.tumblr.com/post/159700213512/less-than-fic)’ _ regarding Damian and Jason, and while they’re not at all related to each other, they could easily maybe be spiritual sequels to each other. So...go me, haha. Just needed some good batdad feels this week, mmkay.

It was an emergency signal from Superman. A meeting in the rain, on the roof in Gotham. A young boy standing between them, obviously the meeting’s caller. Clark shrugging apologetically, while a look of concern mixed with the raindrops on his face.

“His mom.” Jon was explaining. “His mom was here. She attacked _my_ mom-”

Clark. “She _what_?!”

“No, Mom’s fine. We – Damian saved her. That’s fine.” Jon waved his own father off, keeping his focus on Bruce while trying to brush his wet bangs out of his face at the same time. “I’m just…Damian’s mom. She said some things. Some…really _terrible_ things. And I…”

Jon’s shoulders slumped, and he looked heartbroken.

“I don’t think he’s okay.” Jon whispered. “Batman, I don’t think Damian’s okay, but I can’t _reach_ him. I tried, but…” He looked ashamed of himself, like he had failed. Clark put a hand on his shoulder. “I think you need to talk to him.”

“And not Nightwing.” Clark added softly. Bruce didn’t look at him. Kept his eyes on Jon. “ _You_.”

“Nightwing’s already with him at the cave, and Damian…won’t talk to him.” Jon quipped. “He’s not okay. I know what his mom said, I _heard_ her, but I don’t know what it _means_ to him, and just. He’s not okay, and I don’t know what else I can do for him.”

“He needs his father, Bruce.” Clark murmured. “His mother just came after him and tried to hurt him. He needs his father to pick up the pieces.”

Bruce continued to stare down at Jon. Stayed silent for a moment, before finally:

“The cave, you said?”

Jon nodded. Bruce nodded back, and turned away instantly. He was almost to the roof’s edge, when Jon called after him.

“She called him a weapon.” He said mournfully. “Implied that was all he was good for. Can you…can you just let him know that I don’t think that? That no one but her does? We all…we all love him for _him_ , not the skills she _made_ him have.” A moment. “Please, Mr. Wayne, can you let him know?”

Bruce looked up into the rain, and jumped.

~~

The cave was silent when he arrived, though he could see Dick and Damian clearly.

Dick was at the workbench. Not working, not even looking at it. Just leaning back against it, arms and ankles crossed, staring almost longingly across the cave. He glanced at Bruce when he arrived, but only that, before returning his attention towards the computers.

Damian was over there, though not in his usual position. Not in the chair, typing away at files and tests and security cameras. Instead, he was on the desk, facing away from the monitors, feet firmly on the chair below him. Like Dick, he was still in his uniform, his mask tossed to the side. He was slumped forward, his elbows on his knees, looking exhausted and defeated.

He can see why Jon was so worried.

“He won’t tell me a thing.” Dick whispered as Bruce passed him, pulling his cowl off his face. “He keeps telling me he’s fine, but he’s clearly _not_ , so I don’t know what to-”

“It’s alright. I’ve been briefed.” Bruce hummed. “Just stay back for now. I’ll handle this.”

And really, Dick had a reason to be wary. Bruce wasn’t good at this stuff. When Bruce ‘handled’ something, especially related to his children and their compromised emotional states, he…tended not to handle it at all. He tended to make it worse, actually.

“Bruce…”

“I’ll handle it.” He repeated, continuing towards the computer. He wasn’t trying to be quiet but still, Damian didn’t look up at him as he approached. Kept his head hung and his body curled.

He stood there for a few minutes, staring down at his son. At his youngest. At the one who tried so hard, yet never felt like he got anywhere, though through no fault of his own.

“Son.” He whispered. Damian didn’t look up. Didn’t respond, other than to close his eyes at the name. Bruce kept his patience, carefully tucked a rogue curl of hair behind Damian’s ear. “Damian.”

“I ran into Mother tonight.” Damian sighed.

Bruce shifted his hand from Damian’s ear to his shoulder. “I know.”

“She was going after Lois Lane.” Damian continued, like this was a report. Then softer: “She was going after Jon’s _mom_.”

“I know.” Bruce repeated. “And she’s safe now, thanks to you.”

“I didn’t do anything. Jon did most of it.” Damian shook his head, reopened his eyes to continue staring at the floor.

A moment. An eternity of a moment.

“…I tried to be strong.” Damian breathed. “I tried to…everything I said, she _countered_.”

“Damian…”

“She kept trying to play on my loneliness but I wouldn’t let her. I kept telling her I had friends, I wasn’t alone anymore, I didn’t need her, I didn’t _want_ her, and she just said I was keeping people close so I could hurt them later.” His voice got more desperate and pained the more he spoke. His words were becoming wails. “That everyone I called _friends_ , would just be my _victims, later_.”

Gently, Bruce put his other hand on Damian’s shoulder too. “Damian.”

And Damian looked up at him with red-rimmed eyes, tears cascading down his face. “I don’t want to hurt anyone, Father. I _don’t_.”

Bruce smiled gently. “I know.”

Damian sniffed, and moved to look away again, but Bruce wouldn’t let him. Quickly, he caught Damian’s chin on his finger, forcing him to look back up.

“Damian, you are not her weapon.” Bruce whispered. Damian’s lip quivered, so Bruce repeated it, for good measure. “You are _not her weapon_.”

Damian coughed out a sob, and before he could respond, Bruce hooked an arm around his shoulder, pulling him into a tight embrace. Damian held him back just as tightly, buried his face in Bruce’s chest. Bruce just pressed his nose into Damian’s hair.

“You are my son, and I am so proud of you.” Bruce continued quietly, rubbing at Damian’s shuddering spine. “I _love_ you, and I will never, _ever_ let her take you from this life you’ve made yourself. I promise.”

Damian didn’t respond, but Bruce didn’t need him to. What he needed was to hold his boy, and make another promise, but to himself.

Talia would not get near him again. She would not threaten him, not mock him, and not beat him down for the person he’s become.

And then another promise – he would find her himself, and tell her all this to her face. Scream, yell. Fight her if he had to. Whatever he needed to do, he’d do it.

Anything to protect his son, and that fragile, beautiful mind of his.

Dick was instantly, silently, there. Not touching, not interfering, not breaking into Bruce’s space to spirit Damian away to other distractions or needs. Just there, smiling sadly. A quiet comfort for both father and son.

“I love you.” Bruce repeated, and that was all he could do. Repeat, repeat, repeat. “Your siblings love you. Your friends love you. And we always, _always_ will. No matter what.”

Damian just dug his nails into Bruce’s back.

“No matter what your mother says about you. No matter what others believe.” He kissed Damian’s temple. “We always, always will.”

He went silent, then. Just listened to his son cry. Held him as tight as he could. Dick remained nearby. Shutting off alarms and alerts, softly answering calls or messages. Letting his family have their moment.

As Damian’s wails began to quiet a little while later, Bruce slowly moved to gather him up. “Come on.” He hummed. “Let’s get you upstairs.”

“No, I.” He held Bruce tighter, though shifted like he was about to let go. “…You have work to do. I…I’ll go myself. Thank you, Father.”

Bruce smiled. Because he absolutely would not. Not if Bruce had anything to say about it.

“…Here.” He hummed instead. Leaned back just slightly, just enough to unclasp his cape. Tugged it off with one hand, while pushing Damian’s feet off the chair, and pulling Damian into his lap as he sat down himself. As Damian settled himself perpendicularly across his legs, Bruce fluttered the cape over the both of them. “Is this okay?”

Damian curled tighter into his chest. Nodded.

“Good.” Bruce smiled. Glanced up as Dick was suddenly there, holding a cell phone out for him to look at. Dick’s personal one, with a message from Clark.

 _How’s he doing?_ Clark asked. _Jon’s still worried sick. Wants to know if we could stop by and hang out tomorrow? Though I have a feeling he’s going to show up even if Bruce says no…_

Bruce chuckled and nodded an affirmative to Dick. Dick grinned himself, and immediately began typing out a response.

“Get some rest, son.” Bruce whispered as he watched Dick walk away. When he was far enough, he turned back to the computer, keeping one hand firm on Damian’s side, typing with other. “I’ve got you.”


End file.
